


a moment of silence, please

by devileye



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Bowling Alleys, But so is everyone else, Friendship, Jaehyun is a shithead, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devileye/pseuds/devileye
Summary: “Oh,” a voice says. It’s breathy and unfamiliar, the only reason Jaehyun glances at the newcomer at all, and then it’s his turn to say it: “Oh.”





	a moment of silence, please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> this only took one entire year.  
> warnings: so much swearing lol and everyone is a shithead. i tried to edit it as best as i could but this is a shitposty fic so i didn't really spend that much time with it. also everything tagged is really truly in this fic. ALSO jaehyun is a dramatic shithead.  
> some tagged characters are only mentioned briefly sorry.  
> [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C7LFmmfV4AAVNk3.jpg) is what i mean by bowlcut. also i wrote and always write jaehyun picturing him with _that_ look. you know the [one](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C3796hTUkAAnXxJ.jpg).  
>  as always, this is for [moonprism](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moonprism/pseuds/moonprism) who i love and adore forever and ever. we've been back on our jaewin bullshit for like two days and i do this. I LOVE U.

Jaehyun’s hungover.

The news travels fast throughout the team during opening, as if Jaehyun’s body slumped over the rentals counter wasn’t indicative enough. Taeyong’s the only guy brave enough to stand near him, bump hips with him even. It’s a terrifying scene for everyone else, but Taeyong gets that Jaehyun would rather drop to the floor and crack his head open than interact with anyone before nine in the morning.

(He’d rather smash his skull to smithereens over a lot of things, actually.)

So there he is, head thudding rhythmically against the counter as his co-workers scurry around his near-corpse in preparation for the day. It smells strongly of disinfectant, but the thought barely registers. All he can think about is how much the universe must hate him to make him come to work two hours early for a stupid meeting (which he recalls nothing of) when he’d pumped himself full of alcohol the night before.

 _Karma,_ Yuta’s voice whispers in his head, and that’s all it takes for him to jerk up off the counter, fighting a shudder. It’s a terrible decision on his body’s behalf, all things considered.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Johnny says as he takes up his post behind the counter to Jaehyun’s left. The guy’s built like a pillar and repels Jaehyun with his sunshine aura.

Jaehyun heaves a great sigh of disdain and mutters, “I want to kill myself.” The way Johnny simply looks at him shows he’s gotten used to Jaehyun’s pleas for death; everyone who’s ever worked a couple shifts with Jaehyun has. There’s no one left to tease who won’t retaliate with aggravated assault, except maybe Mark, and everyone’s created their own method of coping with having Jaehyun as their co-worker.

Which is precisely why the new kid at the prize counter is a welcome addition to the crew.

Not that Jaehyun knew the kid existed, at least not for a while. It wasn’t until his break halfway through his shift that he spotted him as he was passing the arcade to the break room. He didn’t slow down, but he did glimpse a skinny, gangly figure behind the glass counter with what almost looked like a bowl cut topping the whole thing off, though he hoped to God he was mistaken. That kid was probably the reason why he had to wake up at ass o’clock that morning, along with menu changes or needing tighter security on the shitty arcade. Jaehyun can only guess; he never paid much attention in meetings, and Taeyong would fill him in if it was really important.

But none of that matters as soon as he enters the break room. Sitting at the little round table in the center of the room and ripping a Milky Way bar into chunks with his fingers, Jaehyun pushes Newbie out of his head and stares blankly into the sliver of white space on the opposite wall. He’s always thought there were too many damn posters and fliers tacked up on the walls, like the room was a fucking art show. There wasn’t a single place of peace in this godforsaken bowling alley, save for the bathroom which was, you know, disgusting. He can’t even really be alone either, as Ten banging around in the cabinets behind him proves.

“This place is Hell,” Jaehyun states blandly, though Ten doesn’t seem to hear. He pops a piece of his Milky Way into his mouth, letting the sugary mess melt on his tongue as he thinks about nothing for another long, blissful minute. Then Yukhei enters the room and he _has_ to leave.

Cold air blasts him when he steps outside, a late winter storm in process. The clouds are heavy and grey, thick with impending rain, or perhaps snow, or hail the size of soccer balls. His fingers are numb before he even has a chance to get a cigarette between his lips, the little flame of his lighter dancing dramatically in the wind. When he finally manages to light the cigarette, he isn’t alone in the sliver of back alley behind the squat building he’s leaning against, caged in by fencing in front and two large Dumpsters to his left and right. He doesn’t look over when the back door creaks open, squeaking on its hinges in a way that would’ve had him covering his ears if not for the stiffening of his limbs.

“Oh,” a voice says. It’s breathy and unfamiliar, the only reason Jaehyun glances at the newcomer at all, and then it’s his turn to say it: “Oh.”

The first thing Jaehyun notices is that it’s definitely a bowl cut. The hair makes the face under it look a thousand times more innocent, like this kid should be in school and not working at a shitty bowling alley. Second thing: the puffy bomber jacket that’s swallowing him whole. Third thing: the pack of Marlboros in the kid’s hand, dented and entirely out of place. Jaehyun has to give Newbie another once-over just to make sure everything he’s just seen actually fit into the same person.

It did.

“Oh,” he says again, not unlike an absolute moron; there’s a smile tugging at New Guy’s lips, which means he thinks Jaehyun’s an absolute moron, too. Basic Social Interaction tells him to say hi, so he does. It’s the most painful syllable ever uttered in the history of man.

New Guy finally shuts the door, shuffling closer with the Marlboros still clutched in his hand. “Hey. Jaehyun, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jaehyun can taste the awkwardness in the air, and he can safely say it tastes worse than the shit they put in cigarettes. “Uh…”

“Sicheng,” New Guy Sicheng offers without missing a beat, his smile never faltering as he takes a cigarette from his pack. “Taeyong told me you have short-term memory loss.”

“Jesus.”

“Right?” Sicheng laughs. It’s breathy, kind of stiff. Which makes sense, considering how wonderfully Jaehyun’s been handling this… whatever it is.

They fall silent, smoking with their backs to the grimy wall and eyes everywhere but on each other. The air is thick with how awkward their entire exchange had been, and it doesn’t seem to clear until Sicheng slips back inside.

“God.”

 

 

“You are an absolute piece of shit.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong responds blandly, up to his elbows in soapy dishwater. The kitchen is oddly quiet; it’s ten minutes after closing and the two cooks on duty had already left. Jaehyun’s leaning up against a refrigerator with his arms folded across his chest, just watching.

Taeyong pauses in his dishwashing, gripping the edge of the sink dramatically before looking over at Jaehyun. “Anything else?”

“No, you’re suffering enough as it is.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Taeyong grimaces, flicking suds in Jaehyun’s direction before turning back to the last stack of trays.

“Okay. You look stupid.”

 _“Are we in the fucking fifth grade, Jung Jaehyun?!”_ Taeyong shrieks without missing a beat, spinning around and lunging for the front of Jaehyun’s jacket to drown him in dirty sink water, no doubt.

(He thinks he sees his life flash before his eyes and thinks that there really isn’t much that’s noteworthy there. Nice.)

Usually when Taeyong attempts to murder him, he cuts himself off short because he just gets tired. That’s exactly what happens after a couple seconds of struggling; they’re back to their original positions in the next minute, Taeyong scrubbing furiously at his trays and Jaehyun against the fridge with his eyes closed. His heart’s pounding against his chest, but it’s just the caffeine and the sudden physical exertion that comes with dancing with death. And it’s quiet again, so naturally, he has to smash through the silence so he doesn’t start dissociating.

“You know Sicheng?” he asks, opening his eyes again and picking at the skin around the nail of his middle finger. He doesn’t look at Taeyong, who doesn’t slow his scrubbing either.

“Yeah. The bowlcut kid.” He says it through his teeth, just loud enough to be heard over the sloshing and clanging. “Apparently Johnny recommended him or something. I don’t know how the whole hiring process works around here.”

Jaehyun assumes there is no process, but he doesn’t say that. He just looks through the pass-through window and watches Sicheng wipe down the front counter by himself, brows furrowed like he’s taking an exam instead. He looks up so suddenly that Jaehyun’s pulse splutters to a stop, but he can tell he’s looking through everything and not at anything right now. Not that Jaehyun blames him. “Sure is doing his best.”

“Yes, go give him a fucking sticker and a big, sloppy kiss,” Taeyong says, but it’s tired and Jaehyun knows he feels bad for saying it. For Sicheng’s sake, not his. “Can you just go home? You’re usually out of here before we even close.”

Jaehyun’s still watching Sicheng and his dumb bowlcut scurry around the counter, fixing and straightening and patting. _I’d kiss him._ His lips press into a thin line as he pushes himself off the fridge; he doesn’t know what else to think, so he just… doesn’t.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

 

 

He runs into Sicheng a lot more around work than he expected to.

His understanding of Sicheng’s job was that he was to stay behind the prize counter at all times, simply because the shitty teenagers who come into the arcade looking to waste their time and parents’ money like to steal things, too. Why they left a skinny new guy in charge of handling that was a mystery to Jaehyun, until he learns he’s been switched from the rentals counter to the prize counter until further notice to act as backup.

So they stand around a lot. Together. Surrounded by cheap stuffed animals and dart boards and flashing orbs of light that ten-year-olds apparently need. There really is no need for two whole employees to be at the prize counter when the kitchen could always use more hands and Johnny is Johnny, but there’s literally nothing to do so Jaehyun will suck it up and take what he can get.

Also, it turns out that having and holding conversations with Sicheng isn’t nearly as painful as it could be. They talk about college and how Jaehyun actually hasn’t dropped out yet, which usually surprises people but just gets an awkward little grin out of Sicheng. They talk about Sicheng’s cat and Jaehyun’s little brother, who have more things in common than anyone could assume. They talk about the little group of regulars consisting of what looks like high school seniors who have obviously made it their goal to destroy the arcade and each other. And they talk about how badly they want to escape this hell of a town, even if it meant working at a bowling alley somewhere else.

Then around week five, Jaehyun’s moved back to rentals and Ten takes over the prize counter and Sicheng’s shoved into the kitchen with the rest of the employees and that’s the end of that.

 

 

Except it isn’t, because Jaehyun kind of misses talking to Sicheng until his hands get clammy and his throat closes up from the effort, and Sicheng asks for his phone number at the end of their first shift apart.

They’re in the break room, which is still a catastrophe except now there’s glitter all over the round table because Yukhei is a clumsy fuck and also twisted his left wrist a week ago. Jaehyun’s trying his best not to get anything on himself, leaning against one of the tables set up at the room’s perimeter that’s also covered in other shit. He chokes on blueberry yogurt when Sicheng comes straight up to him with his phone in his hand.

“Sorry?” Sicheng says, obviously worried as he tentatively pats Jaehyun’s back and waits for him to clear everything out of his throat and into his arm.

Jaehyun just waves his yogurt and coughs for another solid forty seconds until he’s finally done, tossing the carton into the trash and turning back to Sicheng. His wide eyes almost make him want to choke again.

“Yeah,” he croaks, taking the phone from Sicheng before he can mess this up even more. It takes him another thirty seconds just to type in his number, dodging the ‘are you okay’s and ‘I’m so sorry’s until he can finally hand the phone back. “Text me whenever.”

Sicheng grins and nods, hair bouncing stupidly with the movement. Briefly, Jaehyun thinks about how nice Sicheng’s smile is. Then he’s just glad that the timing’s okay for him to slide past him and make a beeline for the back door.

 

 

Sicheng doesn’t text him.

Around the eighth day, Jaehyun actually realizes he’s waiting and yells “ _fuck_ ” in the car while driving Yukhei to his Starbucks shift. And then everything kind of plateaus there.

They still talk at work, their breaks lining up more often than not. Jaehyun had managed to bring glitter home everyday and it’s evidently been accumulating since Sicheng comments on it whenever he sees him. Sicheng also goes out of his way to pinch glitter off Jaehyun’s skin whenever he finds it, which Jaehyun finds a little endearing.

(His brain actually uses that word like he’s Sicheng’s grandmother or something.)

They don’t ever hang out outside of work just because Sicheng has annoying roommates who are weirdly possessive of him and drag him out with them whenever he has a day off. Jaehyun only knows this because Johnny is one of Sicheng’s roommates and he’s never really seen Johnny outside of work either. So he tries to forget Sicheng exists when he goes home, but that, of course, never happens.

Ever.

He forces himself not to check his phone obsessively because he knows he’s being weird about Sicheng but doesn’t want to end up being _that_ weird. Taeyong’s already picked up on it because he automatically knows every one of Jaehyun’s weaknesses. By association and telepathic connections, Ten somehow knows, too.

“So basically, I should just die,” Jaehyun interjects as Taeyong plays tennis with his predicament.

They’re all at Starbucks just because they have nothing better to do on a Friday night than to watch their other friends work and pretend to contemplate buying shitty, expensive coffee. Ten has his chin in his hand as he watches Yukhei prepare the eight hundredth mocha-latte-supreme-double-bullshit in the hour they’ve been there, obviously uninterested in Jaehyun’s feelings now. But Taeyong’s still all for ruining Jaehyun’s night.

“You could. But then Sicheng would be sad,” Taeyong says sarcastically, drawing invisible tear tracks down his cheeks with his fingers.

“He wouldn’t give a single shit,” Doyoung refutes as he slides into the seat on Jaehyun’s left, slamming down something topped with whipped cream that could probably kill a young child. “Just kidding, I have no idea who you’re talking about and I don’t really want to know.”

It’s as if everyone in the store was out for Jaehyun’s head, which would sound dramatic if it wasn’t absolutely true. “Fuck all of you.”

“Not a chance, honey,” Doyoung says with a strained smile, sipping his bullshit coffee. He’s still in his Starbucks apron and is really displaying the best work ethic for all the other customers in the cramped store.

“Anyway.” Taeyong leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest and head tilted inquisitively. “Are you going to keep acting like a seventh grader or are you going to ask me for Sicheng’s number?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes hard enough to really feel it, slumping further down in his seat. “I don’t need it. I don’t care. I think I’m gonna go home and fucking jerk off, actually.”

The dead look in Taeyong’s eyes as he exchanges glances with Doyoung isn’t missed by Jaehyun, but he sure does ignore it. “Just give me your phone, dude,” Taeyong sighs, holding a hand out.

Jaehyun opens his mouth again to refuse a little more vehemently when a screen lights up in his peripheral and efficiently ends his life.

 

 

> is this jaehyun?

> yea

> sicheng right

> yep!

> totally forgot i even got your number.

> can i call you?

> what?

> i mean

> yea? i guess

> wait no give me like 20 mins

> okay!

 

 

 _What the fuck._ It repeats in his head throughout the entire drive home, hands gripping the wheel at ten and two for the first time since he was fifteen. _What the fuck? What the fuck._

He’s not sure why he’s so surprised that Sicheng would ask to call him; it wasn’t like it was something completely foreign or difficult to understand in any way. Maybe it was just the fact that Sicheng had waited a whole week and a half for this. Or that Sicheng had forgotten he even had Jaehyun’s number. Or that Sicheng was just the weirdest normal person Jaehyun had ever actually wanted to figure out, like every quirk needed to be pieced together before he could sleep again at night.

He’s calling Sicheng before he has the front door of his apartment closed, going through the motions of getting his body to his bed while the rest of his brain focuses on the dial tone. This isn’t a big deal. Sicheng is just a guy with a bowlcut who works at a bowling alley and it really isn’t a big fucking deal. But that doesn’t mean Jaehyun doesn’t slam his shin against his bed frame in his hurry to dive into his bed the exact moment Sicheng picks up, giving Sicheng an earful of every swear word he knows and then some.

Then there’s silence; Jaehyun can’t even move out of his awkward fetal position because he’s too busy listening to Sicheng breathe.

Finally, Sicheng speaks. “Are you… okay?”

“Yep.” Jaehyun reaches down to rub at his leg, jaw clenched and head suddenly pounding. “Anyway. You need something?”

“Actually, yes.” There’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the line that he refuses to read into. “Company.”

His brows raise, body moving to sit up as his pain's all but forgotten. “Company,” he repeats dumbly. _What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?_

Sicheng laughs. It’s muffled; maybe he has a hand over his mouth, or his face pressed into a pillow. “Sorry, that sounded a little weird. Like the beginning lines of a porno.”

Jaehyun lets out a weird choked sound as agreement, head in his hand. “Right. Porno.”

There’s another beat of silence in which Jaehyun closes his eyes and tries not to will his heart to just stop and die.

“This is a lot more awkward than when we’re talking at work. I think I forgot what we usually talk about.” More shuffling, then a very pronounced _zip._

Okay.

“Yeah, uh. Phone calls are new to me? I only ever talk to my mom sometimes?” The ends of his sentences keep going up, like he’s confused about everything he’s saying. Like he’s questioning that he’s saying any of it at all. Why is this so weird? Why is he so weird? Sicheng makes a little noise, like he’s struggling with something, and Jaehyun can’t control what comes out of his mouth next.

“Are you taking your pants off?”

Sicheng laughs again, but genuinely, like that isn’t the stupidest question to be asking your coworker on the phone. “I am, actually. How’d you know? Hear it often?”

_What the fuck._

“Guess I do?” Jaehyun wishes his bed would just swallow him alive. Or maybe a wormhole could just open up above him and suck him up into the void. He also thinks that he should be taking his pants off, too, which isn’t right. Is it? “You messing with me right now?”

Sicheng just fucking _giggles_ , still muffled, and there’s some more shifting and shuffling. Jaehyun has to be going insane, hand moving to undo the front of his jeans. Neither of them are even _drunk_.

“Jaehyun.”

His voice is softer than Jaehyun remembers it being. He can hear the smile in Sicheng’s voice and doesn’t know if it’s because he’s amused or something else. Whatever this is, Jaehyun’s tossing his phone aside and shimmying out of his jeans anyway.

“Are you messing with me, Sicheng?” he asks again, swiping his phone up once his fucking pants are off and leaning back against the wall behind his bed. It comes out a little serious, a little firm; he’s thankful his voice didn’t betray him and just fucking crack.

It’s quiet for another moment that seems to stretch for a couple forevers. Then Sicheng says, “Nope,” in the most innocent, matter-of-fact way, and something stirs in Jaehyun’s gut for the first time in a long, long while.

A (relieved?) sigh escapes Jaehyun as he allows his hand to rest on his thigh, nails digging into his skin just to stave off whatever he’s feeling right now for while longer. He still isn’t sure this is happening; he isn’t sure when he’d started to really want this either. Was he just desperate? When his eyes close and he imagines Sicheng there, in his room, between his legs, his brain tells him he’s definitely wanted Sicheng for a while. The question now is when Sicheng had started wanting him this way, too.

Except that doesn’t exactly matter, not when Sicheng’s just moaned into his fucking phone and sends all the blood in Jaehyun’s body into his dick.

“Holy fuck,” he accidentally whispers out loud, fingers twitching against his skin. “Are we really doing this?”

Sicheng’s breaths are coming a little heavier, a little more frequently. It would've been barely noticeable if Jaehyun didn't have all his brain cells honed in on everything Sicheng. He can tell his phone’s close to his mouth, maybe held up against his throat. “Only if you want to,” he replies, probably still fucking smiling, and Jaehyun can’t say yes fast enough.

They’re both quiet after that. Jaehyun has his underwear pushed down to his knees, hand wrapped around his cock and stroking it to the little muffled noises he can hear through the phone. He wants to know what Sicheng’s doing, wants Sicheng to tell him exactly where his hands are and exactly how good he feels. But he’s too focused on catching every sound, every little groan and sigh like he won’t ever hear them again. He closes his eyes, thinks about Sicheng here, on his lap, replacing the tight grip of his hand with something else.

“Shit,” Sicheng whispers, making Jaehyun’s cock jump, and then there’s a gasp that threatens to end Jaehyun’s life _again_.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” Jaehyun says, voice a little strained as he continues to pump his dick languidly. It’s a sharp contrast from his wild heartbeat, pulse pounding hard like he’s been running, and he’s glad no one else can hear it because it’s kind of embarrassing. He’s trying to keep it together; he doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing because this had never been his _thing_ , but it’s hot. Sicheng’s hot.

“I’m–” Sicheng gasps again, the sound melting into another quiet moan. It takes him another long moment before he can speak again. “I’m fucking myself. With my fingers.”

Okay.

Jaehyun is losing his goddamn mind, hand moving a little faster, a little harder. “What are you– what are you thinking about?”

Sicheng huffs out a little laugh and Jaehyun guesses it _was_ a stupid question. But he answers anyway, short and sweet: “You.”

And maybe it was a lie, just something he had said in the heat of the moment since they’re in each other’s company anyway, but it’s enough to allow Jaehyun’s imagination to run right off the rails. He thinks about fucking Sicheng, considers making him come over and over until he cries. He thinks about Sicheng’s mouth around his cock, those wide eyes looking up at him from between his knees. Funny how little shame a guy can feel, jerking off to the sounds of his coworker fingering himself over the fucking phone. Regardless, it only takes another minute until Jaehyun feels his abdomen tighten up as everything that’s been coiling and reeling inside of him finally, _finally_  lets go. His hips buck shallowly into the air, come landing in mottled stripes along his skin and dripping between his fingers as he groans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasps, head falling back against the wall as he stares up at the ceiling for a couple seconds, a little lightheaded and out of breath. His chest moves up and down as he catches his breath, clean hand searching blindly for his phone to hold it up against his ear. He isn’t sure what he’s hearing until there’s a short, choked moan and then nothing but the rustling of sheets.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to say; he isn’t even sure if Sicheng wants him to say anything. So he sits in his come-covered silence while Sicheng collects himself, trying not to let the quiet, content hums that float through the phone get to him again. When it’s finally been quiet for a good while, Jaehyun opens his mouth.

“That was hot,” he states dumbly, like he’s fucking seventeen or something. “I mean. Yeah. That was hot.”

Sicheng just laughs, but genuinely, like that isn’t the most ridiculous thing to be saying to the coworker you just masturbated on the phone with. “Thank you,” he murmurs, mouth close to the phone and voice even quieter than before.

Jaehyun stupidly thinks he might be a little bit in love.

 

  
  
The next day, Sicheng isn’t scheduled to be at work. Which is good, kind of. Mostly bad. Jaehyun can’t stop shifting his weight from one foot to the other, restless for reasons he can’t really figure out himself. It gets so bad that Mark body slams him into the rentals counter and yells, “Would you fucking quit it?!” like he’s Taeyong now or something. And Jaehyun doesn't do shit about it.

The day crawls by on all fours, even pauses sometimes like its knees are starting to hurt too much and it needs to rest. Every time Jaehyun lets his mind wander to the night before, he has to shut everything off before it starts to get to him again.

After the building’s finally locked up for the night, Jaehyun’s sitting in the bed of Johnny’s truck with a shitty beer in his hand, and he’s determined to knock himself the fuck out.

“Don’t you have anything remotely better than this?” he complains, grimacing at the dark bottle. Johnny snatches it away and gets beer all over their arms.

“Buy your own fucking alcohol.”

“Maybe I will,” Jaehyun shoots back, wiping his arm off on Taeyong’s pants. He’s sitting up on the edge of the truck bed and almost falls backward trying to kick Jaehyun in the face.

“Alright, what’s your issue?” Johnny asks, taking a dramatic swig of his beer like he isn’t drinking in the parking lot of the place he’s employed at. “Missing Sicheng or something?”

“Fuck off,” Jaehyun grumbles, head lolling to the side so he can stare at a distant streetlight until he goes blind.

He doesn’t have to look at Johnny to see that he’s grinning. “He totally is.”

Taeyong shifts, cigarette smoke wafting near Jaehyun’s face. “You guys fight or something?”

“What’s there to fucking fight about,” he deadpans in response, relaxing his muscles to appear indifferent. “We don’t even talk outside of work.”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?”

He closes his eyes, brain projecting gross images onto his eyelids that he’s beyond feeling shameful about. There is no problem.

There’s no problem at all.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

 

 

Jaehyun isn’t sure what the fuck he’s planning on doing when he walks up to Mark at closing the next day. He hasn’t seen Sicheng at all; they were keeping the kid hostage in the kitchen and Jaehyun opted to spend his break in his car with his chain-smoking habit. He also figured he’s done acting like a dipshit and needs to confront Sicheng about… whatever this is, which has led him to corner Mark outside the bathrooms.

Mark’s leaning against the wall, fingers tapping rapidly at his phone screen, mop tucked under his arm to hold it upright. He doesn’t even realize Jaehyun’s there until he glances up, startling violently and biting back a hundred 'fuck's.

“What the _fuck_ , dude?" Except one. "What?” 

Jaehyun’s just standing there, contemplating every decision he’s made to get to this point, hands limp at his sides. They share another beat of silence before he kind of smiles. “Hey, Mark. I’ll take over bathroom duty for you.”

Mark’s brows raise slightly as he pushes off the wall, clearly a little incredulous and a lot uncomfortable. “Uh. No?”

The smile slips off Jaehyun’s face as he snatches the mop from Mark. “Go wipe down the rentals counter.”

There’s another long moment of confusion before Mark sighs, moving past Jaehyun to go do what he’s told. Jaehyun guesses there are some perks to seniority, or whatever.

When he pushes into the men’s restroom, he doesn’t spot Sicheng at first. Instead, his senses are assaulted with the smell of public restrooms and chemicals. Then he hears something from the middle stall and Sicheng’s pulling the door open, looking a little exhausted like he always does at closing. He doesn’t notice Jaehyun until after he’s washed his hands, stopping dead in his tracks on the way to the trash can.

“Jaehyun,” he says, a little smile on his face. “You kind of look like you’re going to murder me.”

Okay.

Jaehyun glances down at himself, then at the mop. He isn’t sure what it is that makes him look that way, but he believes Sicheng anyway. Leaning the mop against the door, he reaches back to rub a hand against the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of everything. But he crosses the distance between them anyway, letting his hand fall and looking Sicheng straight in the eyes for once.

“You’re not really going to murder me, are you?” Sicheng asks jokingly, still grinning like a fucking idiot with his bangs falling too close to his eyes. Jaehyun thinks Sicheng has some really pretty eyes.

Then his hands are coming up to cup Sicheng’s face on either side, pulling him close enough that their noses brush. And Jaehyun still has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but the glint in Sicheng’s eyes tells him that Sicheng knows exactly where this is going.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asks, voice low but without any hesitation. He’s losing his mind, he knows it. That’s the only thing that could explain this.

Sicheng hasn’t stopped smiling, even as he hums like he’s thinking about it. Like Jaehyun’s heart isn’t hammering the fastest it’s ever hammered in his life. Like he doesn’t have Jaehyun by the fucking balls, has had him by the fucking balls since day one.

“Yep,” he finally answers after what feels like a couple forevers, and Jaehyun leans in.

_What a little shit._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reaching the end. i might write a sequel someday but who knows!!!  
> comments are always very much appreciated.


End file.
